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Dan was the man: Godspeed to one of racing's nicest guys

I was not close with Dan Wheldon, but the little I did know of him as a man was more than enough for me.

Perma-grin plastered on his face, Wheldon seemed to always have time for fans and the media, and he was usually armed with a quick-witted jab that made you laugh whether you wanted to or not.

"I hear Autoweek is paying you more than I make," he said, smiling, to Autoweek IndyCar reporter Curt Cavin as we encountered Wheldon on pit road following practice at Las Vegas Motor Speedway last week.

"I heard you were causing all kinds of trouble in the go-kart race, getting black-flagged all over the place," Cavin fired back.

Wheldon laughed, looked at me and said, "Did you see me hit that guy out of the way coming out of the pits?"

Yes, and it was very funny. The event took place the previous night at Pole Position Raceway's indoor kart track, organized by the Graham Rahal Foundation to benefit Alex's Lemonade Stand for Childhood Cancer, and the Association of Hole in the Wall Camps. Along with several other pros who anchored the multidriver teams in the 45-minute endurance race, there was Wheldon, banging wheels and shaking his head at the poor track employee waving the "you're finished" flag at him as he flew past. "Well," I said to the employee, "he is the Indy 500 winner . . . "

Until Wednesday night's charity race I had not spoken to Wheldon in roughly four years, when I first met him during a Honda S2000 press event at Mid-Ohio. In between driving hot laps on that humid summer afternoon, he sat with a group of automotive journalists during lunch and fit right in. He didn't disappear to an air-conditioned trailer to make phone calls, and there was zero sign of arrogance or entitlement as he asked about each of us, our jobs, whether we hung out together like some of the IndyCar drivers did. In other words, he was genuinely interested. If you spend time around professional athletes, you know this is not necessarily the norm.

Toward the end of lunch, he told a random story, rolling his eyes while mocking some of his colleagues for once spending an offensive amount of money to fly home from a race on a private jet--and then ended the tale with something like, "So anyway, I wrote the check and got on the plane . . . "

Wheldon gained fans that afternoon, and when I saw him on Wednesday he said, "We've done something together before, haven't we?" We have, I said, and suggested he participate in some upcoming Autoweek road-car stories, as Rahal does. He agreed immediately and we promised to get in touch in the coming weeks.

I didn't think much about it afterward, and the next night I ran into that huge grin coming toward me once again during an IndyCar party at the MGM Grand hotel. Neither Wheldon nor I bothered to stop and gab but simply bumped fists in that "Yo, dude" way relatively young guys at a party do as they pass. Again, I didn't give it a second thought. "We'll have plenty of time to talk after the season," I said to myself.

As I sat at home on Sunday--I did not stay in Las Vegas for the race--watching the horrific scene as it unfolded on my TV, I glanced down. For the first time all weekend, I realized I was absentmindedly still wearing a rubber bracelet emblazoned with "IndyCar Party;" it had served as the entry pass to the MGM bash less than three days prior. When I look at it now, though, it reminds me not of the great time I had visiting with friends and business associates, but of the very last time I ever saw Dan Wheldon in person.

I don't plan to take it off any time soon.

Mac Morrison
- Mac Morrison is Autoweek’s senior editor for Motorsports covering racing at all levels, from club events to NASCAR, IndyCar, NHRA and Formula One. He also contributes to Autoweek’s coverage and testing of new cars and the automotive industry.
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